So the old Puritan armorer was gone! Lanny had thought of him for so long as going that the news brought no shock. He had to keep his mind on his Berlin job, and without delay he wrote notes to Seine Hochgeboren the General Graf Stubendorf, to Oberst Emil Meissner, and to Heinrich Jung. Irma, at his suggestion, wrote to several of the ladies of prominence whom she had met. No Jews, no Schieberfrauen, but the socially untainted!
By that time the afternoon papers were on the street, making known Lanny’s arrival, and he had reason to expect a telephone call. It came, and he heard a voice saying: “I understand that you are interested in the paintings of Alexander Jacovleff.” Lanny replied without hesitation that he was greatly interested, and the voice informed him: “There is some of his work at the Dubasset Galleries which you should see.”
“Very well,” said Lanny. “Should I come at once?”
“If you please.”
He had agreed with Irma that hotel rooms might have ears; so all he said to her was: “Come.” She looked at him, and he nodded. Without another word she got up and slipped on a freshly pressed spring costume. Lanny ordered his car, and in a short time they were safe from prying ears. “Yes, it’s Freddi,” he said.
The art dealer’s place was on Friedrichstrasse, only a short way from the Adlon. Lanny drove slowly by, and there was a tall, dark young Jew strolling. The Mercédès slowed up at the curb and he stepped in; they went on down the street, and around several corners, until they were certain that no car was following.
“Oh, I am so glad to see you!” Freddi’s voice broke and he buried his face in his hands and began to weep. “Oh, thank you, Lanny! Thank you, Irma!” He knew he oughtn’t to behave like that, but evidently he had been under a heartbreaking strain.
“Forget it, kid,” said the “Aryan.” He had to drive, and keep watch in the mirror of the car. “Tell us—have you heard from Papa?”
“Not a word.”
“Has anything been published?”
“Nothing.”
“You have no idea where he’s been taken?”
“No idea. We dare not go to the authorities, you know.”
“Are Mama and Rahel and the baby all right?”
“They were when I left them.”
“You’re not staying together?”
“We’re afraid of attracting attention. Mama is staying with one of our old servants. Rahel and the baby with her father’s family.”
“And you?”
“I slept in the Tiergarten last night.”
“Oh, Freddi!” It was Irma’s cry of dismay.
“It was all right—not cold.”
“You don’t know anyone who would shelter you?”
“Plenty of people—but I might get them into trouble as well as myself. The fact that a Jew appears in a new place may suggest that he’s wanted—and you can’t imagine the way it is, there are spies everywhere—servants, house-wardens, all sorts of people seeking to curry favor with the Nazis. I couldn’t afford to let them catch me before I had a talk with you.”
“Nor afterward,” said Lanny. “We’re going to get all of you out of the country. It might be wiser for you and the others to go at once—because it’s plain that you can’t do anything to help Papa.”
“We couldn’t go even if we were willing,” replied the unhappy young man. “Papa had our exit permits, and now the Nazis have them.”
He told briefly what had happened. The family with several servants had gone to Bremerhaven by the night train and to the yacht by taxis. Just as they reached the dock a group of Brown-shirts stopped them and told Papa that he was under arrest. Papa asked, very politely, if he might know why, and the leader of the troop spat directly in his face and called him a Jew-pig. They pushed him into a car and took him away, leaving the others standing aghast. They didn’t dare go on board the yacht, but wandered along the docks, carrying their bags. They talked it over and decided that they could do no good to Papa by getting themselves arrested. Both Freddi and Rahel were liable to be sent to concentration camps on account of their Socialist activities; so they decided to travel separately to Berlin and stay in hiding until they could get word to their friends.
III
Freddi said: “I had only a little money when I was going on board the yacht, and I had to pay my fare back here.”
Lanny took out his billfold and wanted to give him a large sum, but he said no, it might be stolen, or, if he was arrested, the Nazis would get it; better a little bit at a time. He started to say that Papa would make it all good, but Lanny told him not to be silly; whatever he needed was his.
“Where are you going to stay?” asked Irma, and he said he would join the crowd in die Palme, a refuge for the shelterless; it would be pretty bad, but it wouldn’t hurt him, and no one would pay any attention to him there, no one would call him a Jew-pig. He hoped the wait wouldn’t be too long.
Lanny had to tell him it might be quite a while. His activities would be in the higher circles, and things did not move rapidly there; you had to apply the social arts. Freddi said: “I hope poor Papa can stand it.”
“He will be sure that we are doing our best,” replied Lanny; “so at least he will have hope.”
The American didn’t go into detail concerning his plans, because he feared that Freddi might be tempted to impart some of it to his wife or his mother; then, too, there was the fearful possibility that the Nazis might drag something out of him by torture—and he surely wouldn’t tell what he didn’t know. Lanny said: “You can always write or call me at the hotel and make an appointment to show me some art.”
They contrived a private code. Pictures by Bouguereau would mean that everything was all right, whereas Goya would mean danger. Lanny said: “Think of something to say about a painting that will convey whatever you have in mind.” He didn’t ask the addresses of the other members of the family, knowing that in case of need they, too, could write him or phone him about paintings. Freddi advised that they should meet as seldom as possible, because an expensive automobile driven by foreigners was a conspicuous object, and persons who got into it or out of it might be watched.
They stopped for a while on a quiet residence street and talked. Freddi’s mind was absorbed by the subject of concentration camps; he had heard so many horrible stories, some of which he couldn’t repeat in Irma’s presence. He said: “Oh, suppose they are doing such things to Papa!” Later he said: “Have you thought what you would do if you had to stand such things?”
Lanny had to answer no, he hadn’t thought much about it. “I suppose one stands what one has to.”
Freddi persisted: “I can’t help thinking about it all the time. No Jew can help it now. They mean it to break your spirit; to wreck you for the rest of your life. And you have to set your spirit against theirs. You have to refuse to be broken.”
“It can be done,” said Lanny, but rather weakly. He didn’t want to think of it, at least not while Irma was there. Irma was afraid enough already. But the Jewish lad had two thousand years of it in his blood.
“Do you believe in the soul, Lanny? I mean, something in us that is greater than ourselves? I have had to think a lot about it. When they take you down into the cellar, all alone, with nobody to help you—you have no party, no comrades—it’s just what you have in yourself. What I decided is, you have to learn to pray.”
“That’s what Parsifal has been trying to tell us.”
“I know, and I think he is right. He’s the one they couldn’t conquer. I’m sorry I didn’t talk more about it with him while I had the chance.”
“You’ll have more chances,” said Lanny, with determination.
Parting is a serious matter when you have thoughts like that. Freddi said: “I oughtn’t to keep you from whatever you’re planning to do. Put me off near a subway entrance and I’ll ride to die Palme.”
So they drove on. Lanny said: “Cheerio,” English fashion, and the young Jew replied: “Thanks a million,” which he knew was American. The
car slowed up and he stepped out, and the great hole in the Berlin sidewalk swallowed him up. Irma had a mist in her eyes, but she winked it away and said: “I could do with some sleep.” She too had learned to admire the English manner.
IV
The Reichstag met in the Kroll Opera House that afternoon and listened to Adolf Hitler’s speech on foreign affairs. The speech took three-quarters of an hour and immediately afterward Göring moved approval, which was voted unanimously, and the Reichstag adjourned. Soon afterward the newsboys were crying the extra editions, and there was the full text, under banner headlines. Of course these gleichgeschaltete papers called it the most extraordinary piece of statesmanship.
Lanny glanced through it swiftly, and saw that it was a speech like none other in the Führer’s career. It was the first time he had ever read a prepared address; as it happened, the Wilhelmstrasse, the German foreign office, had put pressure on him and persuaded him that there was real danger of overt action by France. The Fatherland had no means of resisting, and certainly it was the last thing the infant Nazi regime wanted.
So here was a new Hitler. Such a convenient thing to be able to be something new whenever you wished, unhampered by anything you had been hitherto! The Führer spoke more in sorrow than in anger of the wrongs his country had suffered, and he told the Reichstag that he was a man utterly devoted to peace and justice among the nations; all he asked of the rest of the world was that it should follow the example of Germany and disarm. There was to be no more “force” among the nations; he called this “the eruption of insanity without end,” and said that it would result in “a Europe sinking into Communistic chaos.”
France and Britain, which had been worried, breathed a sigh of relief. The Führer really wasn’t as bad as he had been painted; his soup wasn’t going to scald anybody’s tongue. He would settle down and let others write his speeches for him and govern the country sanely. To the diplomats and statesmen of foreign lands it was obvious that a mere corporal and painter of picture-postcards couldn’t manage a great modern state. That called for trained men, and Germany had plenty of them. In an emergency they would take control.
Lanny wasn’t sure about it; but he saw that today’s speech was the best possible of omens for the Robin family. Adi was singing low; he wouldn’t want any family rows, any scandals going out to the world; he was in a position where he could be mildly and politely blackmailed, and Lanny had an idea how to set about it.
The telephone rang. His note to Heinrich Jung had been delivered promptly. Heinrich had attended the Reichstag meeting, and now he was taking the first opportunity to call his friend. “Oh, Lanny, the most marvelous affair! Have you read the speech?”
“Indeed I have, and I consider it a great piece of statesmanship.”
“Wundervoll!” exclaimed Heinrich.
“Kolossal!” echoed Lanny. In German you sing it, with the accent on the last syllable, prolonging it like a tenor.
“Ganz grosse Staatskunst!”
“Absolut!” Another word which you accent on the last syllable; it sounds like a popgun.
“Wirkliches Genie!” declared the Nazi official.
So they chanted in bel canto, like a love duet in Italian opera. They sang the praises of Adolf, his speech, his party, his doctrine, his Fatherland. Heinrich, enraptured, exclaimed: “You really see it now!”
“I didn’t think he could do it,” admitted the genial visitor.
“But he is doing it! He will go on doing it!” Heinrich remained lyrical; he even tried to become American. “How is it that you say—er geht damit hinweg?”
“He is getting away with it,” chuckled Lanny.
“When can I see you?” demanded the young official.
“Are you busy this evening?”
“Nothing that I can’t break.”
“Well, come on over. We were just about to order something to eat. We’ll wait for you.”
Lanny hung up, and Irma said: “Isn’t that overdoing it just a little?”
Lanny put his finger to his lips. “Let’s dress and dine downstairs,” he said. “Your best clothes. The moral effect will be worth while.”
V
There were three of them in the stately dining-room of the most fashionable hotel in Berlin; the American heiress in the showiest rig she had brought, Lanny in a “smoking,” and Heinrich in the elegant dress uniform he had worn to the Kroll Opera House. Die grosse Welt stared at them, and the heart of Heinrich Jung, the forester’s son, was bursting with pride—not for himself, of course, but for his Führer and the wonderful movement he had built. Respect for rank and station had been bred into the very bones of a lad on the estate of Stubendorf, and this was the highest he had ever climbed on the social pyramid. This smart American couple had been guests on two occasions at the Schloss; it might even happen that the General Graf would enter this room and be introduced to the son of his Oberförster! Lanny didn’t fail to mention that he had written to Seine Hochgeboren at his Berlin palace.
The orchestra played softly, and the waiters bowed obsequiously. Lanny, most gracious of hosts, revealed his mastery of the gastronomic arts. Did Heinrich have any preference? No, Heinrich would leave it to his host, and the host said they should have something echt berlinerisch—how about some Krebse, billed as écrevisses? Heinrich said that these would please him greatly, and kept the dark secret that he had never before eaten them. They proved to be small crayfish served steaming hot on a large silver platter with a much embossed silver cover. The waiter exhibited the magnificence before he put some on separate plates. Heinrich had to be shown how to extract the hot pink body from the thin shell, and then dip it into a dish of hot butter. Yes, they were good!
And what would Heinrich like to drink? Heinrich left that, too, to his host, so he had Rheinwein, the color of a yellow diamond, and later he had sparkling champagne. Also he had wild strawberries with Schlagsahne, and tiny cakes with varicolored icing. “Shall we have the coffee in our suite?” said the heiress; they went upstairs, and on the way were observed by many, and Heinrich’s uniform with its special insignia indicating party rank left no doubt that Mr. and Mrs. Irma Barnes were all right; the word would go through the hotel, and the reporters would hear of it, and the social doings of the young couple would be featured in the controlled press. The Nazis would not love them, of course; the Nazis were not sentimental. But they were ready to see people climbing onto their bandwagon, and would let them ride so far as suited the convenience of the bandwagon Führer.
VI
Up in the room they had coffee, also brandy in large but very thin goblets. Heinrich never felt better in his life, and he talked for a couple of hours about the N.S.D.A.P. and the wonders it had achieved and was going to achieve. Lanny listened intently, and explained his own position in a frank way. Twelve years ago, when the forester’s son had first made known Adi Schicklgruber’s movement, Lanny hadn’t had the faintest idea that it could succeed, or even attain importance. But he had watched it growing, step by step, and of course couldn’t help being impressed; now he had come to realize that it was what the German people wanted, and of course they had every right in the world to have it. Lanny couldn’t say that he was a convert, but he was a student of the movement; he was eager to talk with the leaders and question them, so that he could take back to the outside world a true and honest account of the changes taking place in the Fatherland. “I know a great many journalists,” he said, “and I may be able to exert a little influence.”
“Indeed I am sure you can,” responded Heinrich cordially.
Lanny took a deep breath and said a little prayer. “There’s just one trouble, Heinrich. You know, of course, that my sister is married to a Jew.”
“Yes. It’s too bad!” responded the young official, gravely.
“It happens that he’s a fine violinist; the best I know. Have you ever heard him?”
“Never.”
“He played the Beethoven concerto in Paris a few weeks ago, and
it was considered extraordinary.”
“I don’t think I’d care to hear a Jew play Beethoven,” replied Heinrich. His enthusiasm had sustained a sudden chill.
“Here is my position,” continued Lanny. “Hansi’s father has been my father’s business associate for a long time.”
“They tell me he was a Schieber.”
“Maybe so. There were plenty of good German Schieber; the biggest of all was Stinnes. There’s an open market, and men buy and sell, and nobody knows whom he’s buying from or selling to. The point is, I have ties with the Robin family, and it makes it awkward for me.”
“They ought to get out of the country, Lanny. Let them go to America, if you like them and can get along with them.”
“Exactly! That is what I’ve been urging them to do, and they wanted to do it. But unfortunately Johannes has disappeared.”
“Disappeared? How do you mean?”
“He was about to go on board his yacht in Bremerhaven when some Brownshirts seized him and carried him off, and nobody has any idea where he is.”
“But that’s absurd, Lanny.”
“I’m sure it doesn’t seem absurd to my old friend.”
“What has he been doing? He must have broken some law.”
“I have no idea and I doubt very much if he has.”
“How do you know about it, Lanny?”
“I telephoned to the yacht and a strange voice answered. The man said he was a Reichsbetriebszellenabteilung Gruppenführerstellvertreter.”
“That’s a part of Dr. Ley’s new Labor Front. What’s he got to do with a Jewish Schieber?”
“You may do me a great favor if you’ll find out for me, Heinrich.”
Dragon's Teeth Page 38
